


Tales From The George and the Dragon

by aidacaroti



Series: After the War [1]
Category: HP, Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter Next Gen - Fandom, harry potter- JK Rowling
Genre: Bonding, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Humour
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 12:27:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5090723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aidacaroti/pseuds/aidacaroti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every week, without fail, Harry and Ron visit their local pub, The George and the Dragon. If that old muggle pub could tell stories, the pub would never shut up. From engagements, to arguments, to discussions about relationships, sex and the ridiculous. That pub had seen it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hypothetically

It was a Friday night and Harry and Ron were at their favourite muggle pub, The George and The Dragon, and were happily three pints down and well on their way with the fourth. It had been a tough week for both of them, they were both living together currently, Hermione had moved into the flat as well when she’d left school but Ginny was in Holyhead, she had rented a little flat there. It wasn’t the flat that had been tough (although adjusting to having a female around that expected them to put the seat down and put things in the rubbish was). It was work. 

They’d had a string of shit missions of late and their last one had involved a child, which was always horrific but this one had been more so as it was the first case involving a child they’d dealt with alone. 

It was all sorted, but they’d both stepped into the pub with the intention of getting rat-arsed and forgetting everything they’d looked at that week. 

Harry and Ron were best mates, had been for a long time, but when mates got together at the pub they talked about two things: Quidditch, and sex. Now they had Quidditch down, even though Harry wasn’t interested in the league and was only bothered about Ginny making chaser at Holyhead. The other option for discussion, sex, was left alone for obvious reasons. 

When Ron had drinks with Dean and Seamus, or even god forbid Neville, sex would be a main topic of discussion. But with Harry, that was impossible. They had agreed (with a handshake) never to discuss it, it was too weird, too gross and neither of them wanted to know what the other got up to with their girlfriend. (Even if Harry had to silence Hermione and Ron’s room three nights out of seven to block it out.)

But there are some things you only want to talk to with your best mates, and that is where our story starts. 

“Harry, I need to ask you something, and it’s really embarrassing,” Ron said suddenly, interrupting Harry on his tirade on the inadequacies of modern journalism. 

“Ron,” Harry said slowly, “you once demonstrated your penis size to me on a piece of parchment to try and see if you were ‘big’ or not.” 

Ron flushed, ears burning as Harry laughed at his expense. “Look, if you are going to laugh about it-”

“Who said I was going to laugh?” Harry interjected

“You’re laughing right now!” Ron howled. “Look, just, forget it.” 

“No, No, I can control myself,” Harry schooled his features, but both were aware of his twitching lip.

“No, too late. Not telling you.” 

“Rooooon,” Harry complained, “I can’t help it!”

“Too late,” Ron crossed his arms, sulking as his friend continued to snort into his beer. 

Eventually Harry calmed down, “Now you can tell me.”

“Just, don’t laugh, right?” Ron said wringing his hands. 

“I know, I won’t. Jesus, getting me all worried now,” Harry said in faint concern, taking another drag on his rapidly disappearing drink. 

“So me and Hermione, we were, you know, going at-”

“No,” Harry interrupted shaking his head quickly and grimacing. “No, No.”

“No? NO? You don’t even know what I’m going to say!”

“If it has anything to do with you two doing the naked horizontal congo, I want nothing to do with it.”

“It isn’t,” Ron insisted, ears still burning. 

“Good,” Harry nodded then twiddled his index finger to encourage Ron to continue on with his tale of woe. 

“So me and Hermione were having sex and-”

“No!” Harry spluttered, “I said I didn’t want ANYTHING to do with this!”

“What?” Ron said haughtily, “we weren’t horizontal!” 

“Oh for- it’s a figure of speech!”

“Yeah for people who haven’t managed to say the word SEX. It’s SEX Harry, SEX. Say it with me.”

“I can say it! I just- this is- Ron I am not talking about you and Hermione having- eugh, sex.” 

“It’s a natural thing, no need to be weird about it,” Ron said furiously. 

“How would you like it if I talked about getting down and dirty with Ginny,” Harry said, his hand thumping onto the table in a bid to make his point. Instead, he just almost knocked over his drink when the table rocked on its uneven legs. 

“Confused,” Ron said matter of factly.

“That doesn’t make any-”

“Because my baby sister doesn’t have sex,” Ron glared at Harry, daring him to say something Ron could hex him for. 

They fell silent. 

“She does though,” Harry said with a cheeky smile, “real good at it as well, she does this thing, right, where she-”

“I’m going to cut your balls off if you continue,” Ron growled. They fell into silence once again. “Okay so we can’t talk about actual sex, right?”

“Right.”

“So how about hypothetically?” Ron asked hopefully.

“Hypothetically?” Harry asked

“Yeah, hypothetically.”

“So this wouldn’t have happened?”

“Nope.”

“And it wouldn’t be about you and Hermione?”

“Um-hum.”

“It would all be, hypothetical?”

“Exactly,” Ron said, nodding enthusiastically.

“I need another drink,” Harry muttered. He returned five minutes later with two beers. “I hate people who don’t respect the queue system, some jumped up git tried to cut in front of me in the queue, then this middle aged woman, the one over there, yeah blonde, interrupted the guy and went, ‘excuse me’ you know like Umbridge used to? ‘I think you’ll find he’s next’.” 

“Cheers,” Ron took his drink, “was he American?”

“Nope, just a tosser.”

“Ah,” Ron slurped his drink, “so about what I was saying?”

“That hypothetical nonsense?”

“Yeah,” Ron said looking rather insulted, “that nonsense.” Harry rolled his eyes and gulped more drink, feeling rather like he was going to need it. “So, hypothetically, if you, wait not you, if someone was in this situation you need to tell me what you think you- I mean they- would do. Jesus. So we, I mean, this couple, were getting down to it, it was going real well, and I- I mean the guy- knows he’s about to get mega lucky. Hermi- She’s got this look in her eye, all hungry, and-...”

“Stop, stop,” Harry says, dropping his head onto the table and splattering them both with beer, “I can’t do this.”

“Come on Harry, I was nearly at the end, it’s not real, it’s all hypothetical.”

“Maybe I could believe that, if you didn’t keep messing up! We need to believe this, you’ve got to sell it to me. It’s hypothetical, remember,” Harry didn’t look up from the table as he spoke, he was rather wishing he had gone home after his second drink. 

“Hypothetical. Right,” Ron muttered before steeling himself to continue, “so they are going at it,” he pauses thinking over his words, “the bloke undresses her, and god is his breath taken away, she’s so beautiful, all round and-”

“Ron, too much information.”

“I’m just telling you what the bloke was thinking.”

“I don’t need to know everything you- he- was thinking.”

“So she’s naked, and she says all sultry, ‘strip for me’ so he does. He’s you know, trying to sell it so he’s dancing a little and she’s loving it,” Ron paused and takes a deep breath, “so all his clothes have come off, he’s stood in front of her bollocks naked, and then she starts laughing. I asked, no he asked, what was wrong, but she just kept howling with laughter, in the end they couldn’t even have sex because the guy thought she’d finally lost it. Then every time she looked at him for the entire evening she’d start laughing.”

Harry blinked at Ron, “Jeez, Ron, you, he, jeez.”

“So what do you think?”

“What do I think of this situation, hypothetically? Or what would I do in this hypothetical situation?”

“Not you, like if you were someone else.”

“So, hypothetically, if I was someone else, what would I hypothetically think to this hypothetical situation?”

“That sounds about right,” Ron nodded.

“I’m way too drunk for this.”

“You’ve hardly drank anything!”

“I had three shots at the bar,” Harry confessed. 

“HA! There was no guy that cut in front of you!” 

“Ron, please,” Harry said desperately, “let’s just drink up and go home.”

“No, tell me what I should do.”

“You mean hypothetically?”

“For fucks sake Harry, just tell me what I should do!”

“Just bloody ask her Ron, jesus, it’s probably something really stupid. Like maybe she compared your… wand, to a Basalisk or something.”

“Yeah but-”

“Ginny once laughed at me for three days because she decided my cock looked really weird and she felt like it was looking at her.”

“Ew- Harry, just-” but Harry was on a roll. 

“I said I didn’t want to talk about this, now we are bloody still talking about this. I have no idea why she laughed at your naked gangly body. None at all, but I’m not the person you should be bloody asking because fortunately I’ve never seen you completely starkers! So shove your hypothetical bullshit up your hypothetical arse hole and never, ever ask me anything, hypothetical or otherwise about sex.” 

“God Harry, it’s just sex! Stop being so bloody weird!”

“Weasley!” Harry yelled, causing half the pub to turn and gape at them. “Shut up.” 

Ron couldn’t help but laugh at the expression on his face, in fact, he laughed everytime he saw him for the next week. 

He never did ask Hermione what she had been laughing about though, he decided he’d rather not know.


	2. Of Rings and Hotdogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron arrives at the pub looking dazed. Harry hasn't had nearly enough to drink to deal with him in this state.

The two of them met, without fail, at a muggle pub every Friday night. It didn’t matter how often they’d seen each other during the week, or even on that day, it also didn’t matter that they were likely to see each other on Sunday night. They still without fail met at the same pub every week. Sometimes others would join them, and they enjoyed it when they did, but they mostly preferred it just being them. They enjoyed hanging out with Hermione and Ginny too but they couldn’t talk about the same things when the girls were present. 

The tradition had started when Harry had joined the aurors and Ron was helping George in the shop. Even though they lived together they had barely seen each other. So, Ron and Harry decided to go out. They’d tried wizarding pubs first, but they were rarely left alone, so Harry had suggested a good old muggle pub, which was just around the corner from the flat. Of course they’d moved since, Harry up to Yorkshire and Ron down to Kent to be closer to Hermione’s parents. Still, they met up in London. It made getting home difficult. 

They always went home first, to change into muggle clothes and eat, before they met back up at the pub. So Harry wasn’t surprised when he arrived and Ron wasn’t there. He simply got a beer and sat at their favourite table. 

When Ron arrived however, Harry got the first sense of unease. Ron’s face was flushed, his pace fast and more importantly he was still wearing his Auror uniform. Ron joined him at the table (but not before grabbing a beer) and Harry worried his lip as he wondered how Ron could have gone from happy and relaxed two hours earlier to the state he was in now. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Ron said anxiously, wiping his brow. 

“It’s alright,” Harry said, frowning at his friend, wondering how he was going to ask him what the hell was the matter. 

“I...I um, blimey,” Ron muttered. Harry relaxed back in his chair, when Ron was like this it was best to wait him out. “Hermione is working late tonight,” Ron informed Harry, who nodded but stayed silent. “I’ve done something stupid,” Ron finally admitted.

“That’s not surprising,” 

“Really stupid.”

“Oh?” Harry’s mind went to a multitude of things, with Ron there was no way of knowing what he’d done to piss off Hermione. Maybe he needed to tell Ginny to set up the spare room.

“Yeah,” Ron stopped biting his lip again. Harry began to panic, what on earth could Ron have done to get himself this worked up? 

“Any time you’re ready, mate.”

“Okay,” they lapsed back into silence. Harry was never very patient, and this was testing his limits. Still, he knew he had to wait or Ron would get mad and probably storm off. 

“Seriously, Ron,” he couldn’t help it. 

“I-bought-a-ring-,” Ron said all in one, the words spewing out before either could comprehend. 

“Wait, WHAT?” Harry exclaimed, sure he must have somehow misheard. 

“I, I bought a ring, you know, for Hermione.”

“Well obviously,” Harry said in frustration.

“Hermione was working, and I didn’t want to cook. So I thought, I know, I’ll go get a hotdog,” Ron paused, staring at the table in front of him, “then, before I knew it I was in a jewelry store paying for a ring.”

Harry scoffed, loudly. 

“What?” Ron said in outrage, “don’t you believe I wanted a hotdog?”

“No, I believe you were hungry,” Harry chuckled, watching as Ron relaxed slightly, “I just don’t believe you went for a hotdog, then walked past your favourite stand to go all the way into town, then happened to enter a jewelry store and then accidently looked at the engagement rings and then managed to buy one, because of a hotdog.”

“I decided to head to a different hotdog stand,” Ron said pitifully. 

Harry shook his head at him, “this comes from the bloke that said he would rather cut out his own tongue and feed it to a cannibal than eat at any other hotdog stand.”

“People change,” Ron said weakly.

“You don’t, not where your stomach is concerned, and you said that yesterday,” Harry said, “I’m a detective, remember.”

“Hey, so am I,” Ron pointed out.

“Yeah, so you’d think you’d be a better liar.”

“Look you can believe me or not-”

“I don’t believe you,” Harry interrupted.

“-but it’s the truth-”

“It really isn’t.”

“Is.”

“Isn’t”

“Is,” Ron insisted.

“Is not,” Harry fired back, laughing now.

“Is,”

“Is”

“Is no- oh for fucks sake Harry.” They fall back into silence, both chugging on their drinks. 

“So, you ready to propose?” Harry said, leaning forward with interest.

Ron went a strange sickly colour, “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“You bought a ring but hadn’t thought about proposing?! What the!”

“I just really love her,” Ron said pathetically, “and I thought, why not?”

Harry surveyed his miserable friend, “good on you mate.”

“I can’t do this.”

“Yes you can, you’ve been practically married since you were eleven! This is going to be easy!”

“What if she says know,” Ron whispered in horror.

“She won’t,” Harry said confidently, “she loves you, you love her. Why not?”

“Right.” 

“It’ll be fine.”

“Right.”

“How you going to do it?” Harry said, “balloons, flowers, the whole works? Some muggles do like a dance routine? Do you think you wanna do that? Or a restaurant? Or is that too cliche, OH I know-”

“Harry, shut up,” Ron said, paleing further, “I think I may throw up.”

“You could put it in a book?” 

“Put what in a book?” Ron asked dumbly.

“The ring, Ron! The ring!” 

“Oh, maybe…” Ron trailed off, and then began to smile, “we are going to get married, we’re going to-”

“You need to ask her first though, Ron,” Harry warned. 

“But she’ll say yes,” Ron smiled, “You’ll be best man?” he added. 

Harry grinned, “Of course!” 

“No embarrassing stories though,” Ron warned, “and only, like, two mentions of near death experiences.”

“Don’t know if I can stick to that. All our good stories involve someone nearly dying,” Harry said wryly, sharing a smile with his best mate as they both thought back to their time hellraising at Hogwarts. 

“Oh!” Ron said suddenly, “and if you even think about mentioning that bloody ball I’ll- I’ll…”

“Stutter at me? Just leave it with me,” Harry laughed, “god we are getting old. You and Hermione getting married, having little Rons and Hermiones, Merlin help us.”

“Laugh all you like, but the second Hermione gets that ring on her finger you can bet Ginny is going to wonder where her’s is.”

“Oh shit.” 

“Not so funny now, is it?” Ron laughed. 

They spent the rest of the evening getting increasingly drunk and teasing each other. It was one of their best nights and it was one they would remember for the rest of their lives: the night Ron bought a ring because of a hotdog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any suggestions, let me know!


	3. What's a wedding without a groom?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron is supposed to be getting married in an hour. Instead he's at the pub.

Harry sat down across from his friend with a weary sigh that comes from dealing with Ron’s many panicked moments. He pushed two glasses of water towards Ron. He wasn't sure how much he'd drunk, but water wouldn't hurt.

“Your mum is having chickens.”

“Ergh,” Ron said into his folded arms. He wasn’t sitting up anytime soon. He was quite happy feeling perfectly sorry for himself, thank you very much.

“She’s sent half the wedding out looking for you.” She had, of course she'd sent them to the grounds around the Burrow and to the village, he alone had known where his riddiculous friend would be hiding. 

Ron did look up at this, slightly shamefaced. “Oh.”

“Of course, I knew you’d be here. Best man, after all.”

“Har–” Ron was trying to wave him off. Unfortunately, time was ticking and Harry didn't have the patience to be delicate.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Harry asked abruptly.

Ron shrugged helplessly. “I woke up, and before I knew it, I was here.”

“That phrase is becoming reoccurring for you,” Harry said snidely. He pulled off his glasses and cleaned them. He’d had to change out of his wedding robes to come find Ron. Sat it their pub as if it was just another Friday. Bloody Ron. Bloody weddings.

“Yeah,” Ron gulped down the water.

“Your mum is worried.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “I didn’t even want to have the wedding at home,” he complained. “I wouldn’t have minded, you know, getting a quickie.”

Harry sighed loudly. “You’ve been planning this for a year.”

“I know.”

“And now you decide?” Sometimes, the riddiculusness of his best mate astounded him. Other times it made him want to choke the life out of him.

“Well. How bloody stupid I’m going to look in front of hundreds of people when Hermione does a runner?” Ron said in panic. “Stood there, waiting and waiting.”

“She’s not going to do a runner,” Harry soothed, trying to bury his annoyance. He’d had this same talk with Hermione an hour ago. At least she’d only run to the bathroom.

“She will! Look at me!” Harry did. Apart from his panic, he looked the same as usual. Although, now he thought about it, he did look rather grey around the edges. Perhaps he was starting to go green as well. Had George slipped him something?

“Yeah?”

“But she’s, gorgeous! And clever! And I’m, well, not!”

“You’re clever too,” Harry said firmly. “Hermione has known you for more than ten years. If she hadn’t wanted to marry you, would she have said yes?”

“No?” Ron said uncertainly. Harry threw his arms up in the air.

“Of course not! She loves you Ron.”

“She does?” Ron asked in utter bewilderment.

“Yes,” Harry said shaking his head. “And think of how upset she’s going to be when she gets to her wedding and you aren’t there!”

“Oh Merlin. She’ll kill me,” Ron said in horror. He jumped to his feet. “Quick, hurry! We’ve got to get back- now!”

“For Merlin's sake,” Harry grumbled as he followed his friend. He couldn’t help but shake his head at the whole thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing these two.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this, I loved writing it! Harry and Ron are so much fun to write.


End file.
